Page 25 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

A painful sting shot up her limb, her skin burning beneath his touch. Panic surged in her chest, her breath hitching as she instinctively tried to wrench free. But his fingers were like a vise, unyielding, and the more she struggled, the more his grip dugin.

A sick, twisted glint flickered in his eyes, feeding off her reaction, daring her to fight harder. Her pulse roared in her ears, her mind racing for an escape, for something—anything—that would force him to letgo.

Panic flared hot in her chest, but it didn’t freeze her—it burned. He thought he could overcome her, break her. But she wasn’t the woman he thought shewas.

She jerked back, twisting against his grip, but he didn’t release her. “Let me go,” she bit out, but the Senator only chuckled, his fingers tightening further.

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You came to me. Now, you play by my rules.” She had let her father direct her before, dictate her worth, treat her like a bargainingchip.

No more.

Jazz’s pulse was a wild drumbeat against her ribs. She struggled against his grip again, but his fingers were iron, his strength suffocating.

And then the words ripped from her before she even knew she was going to saythem.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words dropped between them like a live grenade, the shift immediate. His entire body stilled, his grip loosening just enough for her to yank herself free. He stepped back, his expression flickering from shock to something uglier—disgust.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his lip curling as if the very word left a bad taste in his mouth. “Who’s the father? Dante?”

Jazz straightened, refusing to let him see even a sliver of weakness. “Yes. It’s Titus’s child.”

The silence stretched, thick and charged. The manipulation he had wielded so easily just moments ago had slipped through his fingers, and he knew it. Jazz could see it in the clench of his jaw, in the way his nostrils flared. For the first time, it wasn’t her who was trapped—it washim.

And that terrified him.

The sneer that followed was forced, an attempt to reassert authority he no longer had.

“You think that changes anything?” He shook his head, laughing bitterly.

“You’re nothing but a means to an end. And if you think being pregnant makes you untouchable, you’re even more naive than I thought.

” The burden of his words settled over the room, suffocating.

Jazz’s pulse roared in her ears, but she held her position. “I’m not your tool, Senator. You don’t own me, and you sure as hell don’t own Titus. You’ve made your last move with me.”

The Senator’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. For the first time, he looked rattled. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t calculated forit.

But Jazz wasn’t naive. She saw what he was trying to do—regain control, shift the balance back in his favor. But she wasn’t afraid anymore.

She straightened, lifting her chin. “You’ve underestimated me. You think you can intimidate me into doing your bidding. I’m pregnant with Titus’s child. You think I’ll just let you push me around? Not a chance.”

The words landed like a slap, and the moment of weakness in the Senator was all she needed. He was scrambling, grasping for the command he had wielded so effortlessly before she walked in here. And it was slippingfast.

“Out! Get the hell out of my office.”

Jazz didn’t need to be told twice. She turned on her heel, striding toward the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. Stepping out of his office, the heavy door clicked shut behind her. Surprisingly, his assistant was no longer at her station.

Jazz’s pulse raced, her breath uneven. But she had done it. She had faced him down.Won.

Or so she thought.

She had barely taken two steps when the muffled sound of the Senator’s voice caught her ear. It was low, angry, the clipped tone of a man whose balance had just slipped through his fingers.

“I want Dante taken down. Now . No more waiting. He’s a threat, and we need to deal with him immediately.”

Jazz froze, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she edged closer to the wall, straining tohear.

A hesitant voice crackled through the speaker. “Sir, we have to be careful—”

“I don’t care about your caution!” the Senator snapped, his voice cracking. “Take him down now, or I’ll handle it myself.”

Jazz’s blood ran cold. At first, the threat of his words didn’t fully register.

Then, like ice splintering beneath her feet, realization set in.

Her interference had done more than rattle him—it had pushed him over the edge.

She had struck a nerve, and now, instead of recalibrating, he was reacting.

Her breath came shallow and uneven as she pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to stay unmoving, to listen.

The Senator’s voice came brusque, clipped with frustration, but beneath that, there was something else—desperation.

He had lost his grip, and now he was trying to claw it back in the only way he knewhow.

Jazz clenched her fists, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. She had backed him into a corner, and instead of retreating, he was lashing out. This wasn’t just about dominance anymore. This was personal.

And Titus was the one in the crosshairs. The Senator wasn’t going to wait. He was going to act. And her husband had no idea what was coming.

For a split second, she considered barging back in, demanding he call it off, but she knew better. The damage was already done. And now, she had to movefast.

Her heels clicked against the marble as she forced herself forward, out of the office, out of the building, her mind already racing.

She barely noticed the people around her, the hum of activity in the hallway a distant blur.

Her thoughts ran in loops—how fast could she get to Titus?

Could she warn him in time? What was the Senator’s nextmove?

She reached the lobby, her breath coming faster now, her pulse hammering against her throat.

She needed a plan. She needed to get ahead of this.

She pushed through the doors, stepping into the cold air, blinking against the sudden brightness.

Her hand trembled as she pulled out her phone, her fingers hovering over Titus’s number.

Calling him wouldn’t be enough. This wasn’t a conversation for the phone. This was something she needed to handle in person, face-to-face, before it was too late. The Senator had made his move. Now, she had to make hers. She needed to get to Titus.

Now.